And You Thought YOUR House was Small
by Emery3842
Summary: Growing up in the Impala was rarely easy. Here are some glances at what life was like for the Winchesters as they battled boredom, became soldiers, became men, and found their home. Ranging from WeeChester to teenage/young adult, undetermined number of chapters planned.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone! I am still working on getting an alternative ending for Desperately Wanted out since some of you asked for it. I haven't forgotten! In the mean time, I have not come up with any longer story plot lines, but I keep getting ideas for one-shots, mostly involving life growing up in the Impala (I think these are stemming from my road trip earlier this summer...after being in the car for over 12 hours some days, I wondered how it would be growing up in there). These are going to range from them as kids to teenagers/young adults. I think I am going to format it so that I have a couple of choices for the next chapter at the bottom and when you review, you can vote for which one you would like to see next. That being said, if you have any plots you would like to see written out, let me know and I will see if I can get something out of them!

Enjoy!

* * *

Nine hours. Nine hours and two bathroom stops (one of them involving a dance as they waited). Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a can of cola. Two incredibly bored boys sitting in the backseat of a sleek black Impala as they crossed the country.

"Dad," seven year-old Sam whined, picking his head up from where it had been pressed, staring longingly out the window, "how much longer till we get there?"

John barely managed withhold his exasperated sigh. "Ten minutes less from when your brother asked."

Sam didn't bother to hold back his own sigh, letting it go in a loud puff of air that blew his shaggy bangs off of his forehead. He then let his head fall back onto the window and continued to stare at the scenery as it went by. His reverie of being outside was broken a few minutes later when he felt something hit the back of his head. Turning, Sam irritably brushed the chip off his shoulder. Not a figurative chip, but an actual potato chip that had been thrown at him by his bored twelve year-old brother.

"Stop it!" he ordered. The first chip had been annoying, the seventh chip was just too much.

"Stop it!" Dean mimicked, flicking another chip at his brother.

"Dean, I'm serious," Sam smacked the chip off of him and onto the floorboard of the Impala.

"Dean, I'm serious," Dean repeated, preparing to use the tried and true football-finger-flick on the next chip.

"Ah!" Sam shouted, leaning over the middle of the bench seat (the negotiated 'no-man's land' after many arguments had broken out over who got to use it) to deliver a punch to his brother's leg. "Knock it off!" he demanded.

"Dude!" Dean glared at his brother, crossing the divide to return the punch. "Don't punch me!"

"You started it," Sam argued, throwing one of the chips at Dean.

"Nu uh," Dean pelted the chip back at him.

"Uh huh!" Sam kicked out at him.

Dean was just pulling back his leg to retaliate when John's voice halted him.

"Boys! That's enough!" John hollered from the front. He was usually pretty good at ignoring the bickering that broke out in the back seat, but they had been pushing his buttons all day.

"But," Sam tried to explain, but fell silent when John simply leveled him with a hard stare in the rearview mirror. "Never mind."

"I don't want to hear another peep out of the two of you for the next hundred miles, understood?"

"Yes, sir," they answered moodily, each of them throwing glares at each other, but kept their limbs on their own side.

Satisfied that they would behave for the time being, John turned the radio up.

* * *

The boys made it about 45 miles before John heard the beginnings of whispers drifting from the backseat. However, since they weren't arguing, John pretended that he couldn't hear them.

"Does he wear a mask?" Sam asked Dean quietly, not wanting to get caught by his dad.

Dean nodded, hiding his smile as Sammy's face scrunched up in concentration, trying to think of the next question.

"Is he human?"

Again, Dean nodded, but this time he asked a question of his own. "Why do you assume it's a he?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he glanced over at Dean with a duh expression, "As if you would pick a _girl_ superhero."

Dean hastily turned his giggle, he meant chuckle, into a cough as his dad glanced back at him.

Sam continued to think through his known list of superheroes. He didn't know nearly as many as Dean did, but he could only think of one that fit the answers...and that Dean would pick. "Is it Batman?"

"Uh huh," Dean revealed with a grin. "Wanna play again?"

Sam considered it for a moment and then shook his head solemnly. "I wanna play outside..." he turned to look out the window again.

"I know, me too," Dean agreed. "Maybe dad will find a job that has us staying in one place for a while."

Sam didn't bother to point out that even if he did, it wouldn't be for long.

Looking at his brother, Dean could tell that he was getting upset. He didn't blame him...he wanted to stay in one spot for a while too, but since that wasn't going to happen, he would focus on making Sam a little happier. Holding out a fist, Dean nudged Sam with his other.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean urged, nodding at his fist. He waited until Sam put his own up, counted to three and then threw out scissors.

Sam smiled in victory as he smashed Dean's scissors with his rock.

They continued to play on and off for the next hour until they reached their destination. Three times out of five, Sam would smash Dean's scissors victoriously.

"You aren't very good at this game, Dean," Sam observed after another round.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "I can't be perfect at _everything_."

Their last game ended as they pulled into a motel for the night. John kept his smile to himself as Dean lost once again. He never made it blatantly obvious, but Dean was always willing to throw the game in order to bring a smile to his younger brother's face.

...Either that or he just really sucked at rock, paper, scissors.

* * *

Okay! Here are the choices for the next chapter.

1) What would make teenage Dean willingly give up the passenger seat?

2) When the Impala became home

3) Sam learns to drive


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks everyone! I counted up the votes and number two won. So, here is when the Impala became home.

Enjoy!

* * *

Dean couldn't keep track of how many motels they had stayed in over the past two years. The first few months had been a hazy blur, each passing by as soon as he realized he was somewhere new. Then, he didn't care to remember them.

They were drafty, they smelled bad, they didn't have his mom. Honestly, they really didn't have his dad, or at least the dad he knew. They weren't home.

He had pointed that fact out to his dad only once. About a year ago, he had picked up a bad cold that had him bed-ridden for days. He was cold, the sheets were scratchy, and he wanted his mom to make him tomato and rice soup and sing to him. But, what he got was a lukewarm can of Campbell's soup and the television turned on.

He would recognize later that his dad was just stressed, maybe even sad, but six year old Dean couldn't figure out why his dad had yelled at him and vowed to never mention their old home again.

Then, one night his dad was acting weird. Dean didn't know it, but it was the two year anniversary of his mom's death. He had watched as John lifted the bottle up to his lips once, twice, five times...he stopped counting when his dad opened another bottle.

Dean didn't know what his dad was drinking, but he had seen him drink it before and he knew that he was more likely to get yelled at when he was. Unfortunately, Sammy wasn't aware of this and continued to toddle around like he always did. Sam was at the age where he was getting into everything. He couldn't help himself. He saw it, wanted it, and then did everything in his power to get it into his chubby little hands. So, when he saw the bottle that his dad kept taking drinks out of, he just knew that he wanted some too. Before Dean could stop him, Sam had stood on his tip toes and fumbled around the table, pulled the half-full bottle off and watched as it poured onto the ground.

Both boys watched in wide-eyed silence as John stumbled to his feet. "Damn it, Sam!" John bellowed, yanking the bottle from the ground and upon finding it empty, hurled it at the wall. The shattering glass rained down the wall.

Silence. And then Sam's loud wail broke out.

"Get him the hell out of here," John addressed Dean harshly. He was angry that the bottle had been spilled and he was also ashamed that he was behaving that way towards his own sons.

Dean quickly gathered Sam up and took him into the adjourning bedroom. But, it wasn't enough. They could still hear John smashing things in an attempt to find more liquor.

"Shh," Dean hushed, holding Sam's head against his chest and using his hand to cover his other ear. "It's going to be okay, Sammy."

As the sound of dishes crashing to the ground echoed through the room, Dean felt his own tears running down his face. That man out there wasn't his dad, he wanted everything to be like it used to be.

While trying to calm Sam down, Dean caught sight of the Impala keys. It was a bad idea. If their dad caught them before he was back to normal, then they would be in a world of trouble...they might even be afterwards. But, Sammy was still crying and Dean didn't think he could take anymore of the yelling. Gathering up a blanket, Dean swiped the keys off the table and silently ushered Sam out the door.

Thankfully, they didn't run into anyone on their way out to the Impala. Dean had been worried that someone would notice them and take them back to their dad. Fumbling with the heavy set of keys, it took him a couple of tries to find the right one. Once he pried open the heavy door, Dean pushed Sam up into the backseat, threw in the blanket, and then hopped in himself, locking the door as he shut it.

Sam sniffled as he settled back against the seat, the loud crying belonging in the equally loud hotel room, not the silence they found themselves in.

Dean half-crawled over to him, dragging the blanket behind him. Pulling Sam so that he could wrap his arm around him and hold him to his side, Dean arranged the blanket over the both of them. He stayed awake until Sammy's eyes drifted shut and his breathing evened out.

Once Sam was asleep, Dean felt a few more tears escape before his own eyes started to drift shut. Finally relaxing back against the now warm leather seats, Dean took a deep breath, the now familiar smell of leather, metal, and something else he couldn't name, but also related to his dad over the past few years, calming him.

The car wasn't the traditional two story house with a picket fence, it wasn't going to make him soup when he was sick, he was never going to have his own room...but as he let his eyes finally close for the night, he realized that the one thing that he always felt at their old home was protected. And as he was nestled in the protective metal with Sammy, that was exactly what he felt. Safe and warm and home.

* * *

A/N: This was by no means supposed to be a John bashing fic, just a situation I could see happening. When I finished it, I noticed that this was when Dean decided the Impala was home. If there is a desire for it, I could get to work on when Sam decided it was. Just let me know. Now on to your choices!

1) What would make teenage Dean willingly give up the passenger seat?

2) Sam learns to drive

3) Dean's first (fair warning, this is not going to be explicit, probably M just to be sure, but could be a T. Also, it isn't quite done and it is my first time writing anything like it...so it may take an extra day or so.)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews! I am glad to see that you are liking it. The winner for this chapter was number one. So, here is the reason why Dean would give up the front seat.

Enjoy!

* * *

Dean silently prodded at the army man that Sam had jammed into the door of the Impala. His face wiped clear of as much emotion as he could manage, Dean avoided looking up as much as John avoided looking into the rearview mirror.

"Hey, Dean," Sam's voice broke through the awkward silence. "What do you know about algebra?"

Dean turned to look at his brother in disbelief. "You're kidding right?" Dean spoke his first words since they had left Bismarck.

"What? It was a serious question," Sam claimed, looking up from the book on his lap.

Looking closer at the book, Dean noticed that it was in fact an algebra book.

"Dude, it's summer. Why are you reading a math book?" Dean flicked the edge of the book disdainfully.

"I want to be ready," Sam justified his summer reading choice, looking only slightly embarrassed.

"Geek boy," Dean teased with a shake of his head.

Sam smiled internally as Dean teased him. Ever since his dad and Dean had returned to the motel last night, Dean had been uncharacteristically quiet. He had even given up his place in the front seat with their dad, a place he had claimed as his two years ago, and had wordlessly crawled into the backseat next to him. He hadn't wanted to push the issue, Dean was never really the sharing type, but after a while, he just needed some sign of life from his brother.

After Sam's nerdy question, Dean was feeling a bit better. Honestly, there was a reason he had opted to climb into the back seat. It was comfortable, familiar, safe. He had spent literally countless hours and miles back there with Sammy, spent nights sleeping there, days watching the scenery...the front seat had more leg room and it was physically more comfortable, but he just felt right sitting next to Sam.

The night before, he had his dad were out on a hunt and it turned out to be something humanoid. He had hunted ghosts, sprites, even a werewolf or two...but this was the first time he had hunted something with a human face; well, at least one that was alive.

It really wasn't that difficult of a hunt. The monster had been subdued easily, but then it came time to gank it. Dean had expected his dad to get rid of it, he didn't expect for John to look at him and point to the creature.

"You know what to do," he said simply.

Fingering his blade, Dean shifted uncomfortably. "I...uh..."

"Dean, you are a hunter, you can't hesitate because it looks human. Given the chance, it would take your head off."

"Couldn't I get the next one?" Dean negotiated, refusing to look at the creature. She had started crying the moment they had tied her, he meant it, up. His dad had said it was a defensive ploy, trying to get them to feel sorry for her...it.

"No," John shook his head. "I won't always be hunting with you, I need to know that you can do this."

Dean tried to swallow, but he couldn't get passed the urge to lose his dinner. His hands shaking, Dean approached what looked like a terrified young woman, not much older than himself and lifted up his blade.

"Please, please don't do this," she begged.

"Don't listen to it," John commanded. "It isn't human, it's evil."

"I'm not evil," she argued hysterically.

Dean's steps faltered, she...it...was awfully convincing...

"Dean, stop stalling and kill the damn thing!" John ordered briskly.

* * *

The shaking hadn't stopped as he knelt down, one of his hands on the corner of the Impala to keep his balance, and lost the burger and fries that he had eaten while they waited for the monster to show up.

It came back when he dry heaved in the shower, scalding hot water pouring over him long after the blood had been washed away.

He woke up to it in the middle of the night when her scared face entered his dreams. He didn't fall back asleep after that, but stared up at the ceiling until the sunlight permeated the room.

He and his dad hadn't spoken since the order to kill her had been given. When John had tried to hand him a cup of coffee in the morning, Dean had wordlessly walked passed him and went into the bathroom. While he was in there, John ordered Sam to pack up, so by the time Dean was out, all of their bags were in the car.

John knew that Dean was bothered when he didn't accept the coffee, Dean never turned down coffee. But then, he also wasn't very personable in the morning. John_ really_ knew that he was out of his kid's good graces when Dean didn't take the passenger seat, but got into his old spot in the back seat behind the driver's side.

Dean was aware that he would eventually have to talk to his dad...John would allow his mood for a while, but it wouldn't last forever. But for now, he could just sit in the back seat next to his little brother and pretend like he was the same person who grew up there.

* * *

Let me know what you think and vote for the chapter you want to see next!

1) Sam learns to drive

2) Dean's first

3) When the Impala became home for Sam


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! Apparently that last chapter was not as well liked because the number of reviews dropped significantly. I would love to see those numbers go back up because it gives me encouragement to write, as well as let me know which one-shot I should give you guys.

I am sorry it took me this long to get out, but I was off on my last camping trip with my family and was obviously lacking the ability to access the internet. Option number three won out this week, so we have 'When the Impala became Sam's home'. I actually really liked writing this chapter, so let me know how it is.

Enjoy!

* * *

Sam wasn't Dean. Dean had embraced the life full-heartedly; he enjoyed the new towns every other week, the hunt, the girls. He didn't mind the endless traveling in the Impala and had even taken to calling the Impala home.

One thing Sam always wanted to make clear; the Impala was _not_ his home.

He had been to homes before. Whenever they rolled into town, everyone always grew attached to him, wanted to take care of the small boy who showed up wearing clothes a touch too big and a bit more than worn out. Without fail, parents always urged their sons and daughters to invite him over for dinner.

That was when he got to experience what a real home was like. Walls with paint on them, family pictures, mementos from family vacations, warm dinners eaten around a wooden table; all with a distinct lack of guns, knives, and evil creatures trying to eat him.

A hunk of metal on four wheels? That wasn't a home, it was a car. Plain and simple.

Then, it came time for him to go to college. Dean had tried to convince him to stay and when that hadn't worked, Dean had told him that he couldn't abandon his family, his home. His response was permanently etched into his brain.

"What home, Dean?" He asked angrily. "We don't have a home. We have shady ass motel rooms that are more likely to give us diseases than a good night's sleep."

"The Impala," Dean responded, as if the answer was obvious. "The Impala is our home."

"It's a freaking car! Not a home!" Sam shouted, his arms flinging about wildly as he tried to get Dean to understand. "When are you going to get that? It is just a car."

"We had a lot of good times in that car," Dean argued a bit bitterly.

"Really?" Sam his tone skeptical. "Cause all I remember is having to deal with a bunch of crap that should never have been put on us."

"Fine," Dean conceded. "If there's nothing holding you back, then maybe you should just leave."

In his wildest dreams, Dean didn't think that Sam would calmly inform him that he was already accepted into Stanford and when they reached the next town, he was planning on hopping on a bus.

* * *

That was almost a year ago. His first year at Stanford had flown by. He made a couple of good friends, Brady, Jess, and Grace. Despite his initial nervousness, he found himself really enjoying the whole staying in one place just as much as he thought he would.

It was just…

Sometimes it was a little weird seeing the same people every day, the same sights.

But, that didn't distract from the appeals. Every holiday, one of his friends had invited him home, not unlike when he was a kid. However, summer vacation was a bit different, it was longer, and people had family trips planned.

It took him weeks, but thankfully a couple of days before break began, he found a rundown studio apartment that he could rent for the majority of his paycheck from the coffee shop he worked at. If he planned if carefully, he would even have enough money to buy some food.

"Are you sure you are going to be okay staying here?" Jess asked as she picked up her last bag and tossed it into her car to begin her trip home.

Sam had told her that he found a place to stay, he had just left out the finer details…like the fact that he would be sleeping on an air mattress.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he assured her. "I've got my job, some books…summer will be over before I know it."

"Well, okay, if you're sure," Jess responded skeptically before awkwardly shuffling closer to him. "I'll just be…" she jerked her thumb towards her car.

"Yeah…I guess I'll see you next year," Sam replied, just as awkwardly as he shuffled from foot to foot.

Jess took a deep breath before she took the plunge and nearly lunged at Sam, wrapping her arms around him. She felt Sam tense under her and internally cringed. Sam was not a big touchy feely person and this was outside of their normal interactions. She was about to yank back when she felt his arms come around her hesitatingly. She pulled back with a broad grin and a light blush. "Have a good summer; I'll see you in the fall!"

* * *

Sam's goofy smile had remained on his face until he entered the ramshackle apartment that he got to call his for the next three months. He scoffed as he kicked the door shut behind him; the room actually beat out some of the dives that he had stayed in growing up for filth level.

The first two weeks had been almost enjoyable. He'd wake up, go to work, take a walk around the park near his work, and then return home. Rinse and repeat. But…the silence was starting to get to him a bit. He couldn't afford to get cable, all of his friends had gone home, and he couldn't handle a large cell phone bill. Even with the need to living cheaply, he couldn't get rid of his phone, it was a habit that had been ingrained in him since his dad had first handed him one.

It was kind of weird actually; he would have loved to have this problem growing up. Long days crammed in the car, music blaring 24/7, growing up in the backseat, endless arguments with Dean over…well, just about everything. Yeah, he definitely would have loved some silence back then.

Around the month and a half mark, Sam would have traded his air mattress on the ground for a tv, or even a roommate. He had realized he had reached the desperate stage when he opted to watch a giant spider for two hours rather than kill it. The only positive side to that experience was that he wasn't so far gone that he named it.

After a long shift at work one night, Sam let himself plop onto the air mattress. Curling his legs in, since he was unable to fit on it otherwise, Sam stared at the water damaged ceiling. He then entered into the age old dilemma, trying to force his brain to shut down for the night. However, sleep wouldn't come. Instead, a memory of a similar sleepless night drifted into his mind.

* * *

"This is my side," Sammy whispered, nudging Dean's sock clad feet with his own.

"My legs are longer," hissed Dean, showing Sam's legs back. "I need more room."

"Boys, enough," John ordered groggily from the front. "Go to sleep."

Sam kicked Dean in the shin, "I can't sleep! Dean's hogging all the room!"

"Am not," Dean gave a particularly hard kick, smirking triumphantly as he gained some ground.

"Dean, stop kicking your brother. Sam, stop complaining. Both of you go to sleep." John ordered, his arm thrown over his eyes as he shifted to try and get comfortable in the front. They had been traveling through Nebraska when he realized that he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and there had been no motels within driving distance. So, he had pulled over to the side of the road and was trying to get a couple of hours in, if his boys would let him.

"Sam's kicking me too," Dean whined, annoyed that he had gotten told off and Sam hadn't.

"Dean!" John barked, his need for sleep making him snap. "Be quiet!"

Dean didn't reply as he pulled his legs closer to him and off of Sam's declared side. It would be over an hour before either of them fell asleep, but no more noise was heard from them. Until Sam woke in the morning to find Dean's feet right next to his face.

"Dean!"

* * *

The memory shifted to when Sam was fourteen and they were spending some time at Bobby's while he and their Dad researched something.

"Sammy's got himself a girlfriend," Dean teased from under the hood of the Impala.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said lazily. He was lounging in the front seat of the Impala, trying to escape the hot summer sun. "She's not my girlfriend."

"She could be," Dean informed him, wiping the grease from his hands and peering around the hood. "You just have to ask her."

"Easy for you to say," Sam grumbled. "You're _Dean Winchester_," he adopted a high shrilly voice. "You walk into a place and you practically have every girl falling over herself trying to get you her number."

"Hey, for a geek boy, I have seen quite a few girls giving you the look," Dean informed him. "Hell, I remember back in Wisconsin, what was her name…Amber? Dude, she was two grades above you, pretty cute, and she asked your scrawny ass out. And what did you do? You turned her down because you had to study." Dean shook his head; he just couldn't understand his little brother sometimes.

"I had a test," Sam defended.

"Yeah, it was a social test…which you failed," Dean teased. His smirk grew as he continued, "Hell, if you played your cards right, it could have been an anatomy test."

"Dean," Sam dragged out his name while rolling his eyes.

"Okay, okay. Back on point. This girl, you say that she keeps inviting you to hang out?" Dean looked for confirmation, but continued before Sam had a chance to answer. "She asks you over, she gives you the look, she's cute…dude, just ask her out already."

"What if she is just being friendly?" Sam wasn't like Dean, he didn't expect girls to just fall at his feet.

"If she says no, I will do your next three loads of laundry," Dean promised. There was absolutely no way that girl was going to say no. He had seen the two of them together, it was almost sickening.

Sam perked up at that, leaning out of the car to meet Dean's gaze, "Without turning it pink?"

"Uh huh," Dean answered back.

"Promise," Sam said quickly.

Dean rolled his eyes, but did as told, "I promise that if you ask out Susie Homemaker and she says no, that I will do your next three loads of laundry."

At Sam's pointed look, Dean sighed and continued, "And I will not turn any of it pink."

* * *

"Dean, why don't we have a house like everyone else?" Six year old Sam asked innocently.

Dean glanced over at his younger brother. "Because, we are cooler than everyone else, Sammy."

"It doesn't feel cooler," Sam replied, contemplating Dean's answer. "They get to have puppies and yards, and rooms with toys in them," he got more excited as he listed things off.

"But, we get to travel all over the country. How many of them can say that?" Dean questioned.

"Well...I dunno. But, I would take a puppy over that any day," Sam told him earnestly.

"What kind of puppy would you get?"

A hard thoughtful look spread across Sammy's face, the kind that always meant he was putting all of his effort into thinking. "It would be black and white, and I would call him Spot."

"Spot?" Dean asked skeptically. "You sure you don't want to name it something cooler?"

"Nope," Sammy responded happily. "His name would be Spot." His happiness seemed to deflate a bit as he realized that he would never own a Spot. "It doesn't matter though, only people with homes get puppies."

Sam's disappointment carried on through the next day when they left Hobart, Oklahoma. Dean waited until they were about five hours out before he reached into the bag at his feet.

"Hey, Sammy," he said softly, trying to get Sam's attention.

Looking up with a frown, Sam's face slowly morphed into a smile as he saw what Dean held in his hands…a small, soft, black and white stuffed dog.

"Spot!" Sammy exclaimed excitedly, reaching across the seat to retrieve it from Dean's outstretched hands. "Thanks, Dean!" Sammy threw his body as far as he could across the seat and hugged his brother.

He had never thought to wonder how his brother had obtained the stuffed animal, and when he was old enough, he realized that it didn't really matter. For years, Spot never left his side when he was in the Impala, and the dog always accompanied him into motel rooms, regardless of how long they were staying. Then, his dad started to comment on his constant companion, so he began to stow him in a duffle bag, only pulling it out when he had a nightmare. Then, as he became a teenager, he felt embarrassed to still be holding on to a silly stuffed toy, so it ended up at Bobby's, sitting on a shelf in the room they used.

* * *

Sam blinked away the memory and looked around his apartment until he located what he was looking for. Rolling off of the air mattress, Sam rose to his feet and crossed the small space, crouching down and rummaging through his bag until he found what he was looking for. Returning to his bed, Sam felt his eyes begin to burn with the first signs of tears as he slowly traced the soft outline of Spot's threadbare ear.

He didn't know what had prompted him to stuff it into his duffle the last time he was at Bobby's, but as the silence echoed around him and a few wayward tears made their way down his face, Sam was glad that he had his old friend to hold on to.

Clutching Spot to his chest, Sam rolled onto his side and pretended that he couldn't feel the tears increasing their frequency. All his life the only thing he had wanted was a home, to be normal…he was so busy searching for it, that he missed out on the fact that he already had it. A home wasn't four walls with paint, his current living situation made that clear. It wasn't pictures and trinkets, and it certainly wasn't perfect. It was family and lessons, hard times and good. It was an older brother who fought with him, who taught him about girls, who did everything in his power to make his little brother happy. It didn't matter if those came wrapped up in a traditional two-story home or in a black '67 Impala…they were home.

…He just wished it hadn't taken him so long to figure that out.

* * *

**Your options for next week are:**

**1) Sam learns to drive**

**2) Dean gets the Impala**

**3) Sick WeeChesters**

If you are dying to read one over the others, make a convincing argument and I might be persuaded to do a double post or something. :D


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I promise that this next time, I will get to responding to all of them! I would like to apologize for how long this one took. I didn't actually have a plan for it when I posted it as an option, just some vague ideas. Then, I got a bit stuck on the ending, nothing felt right, so I hope it satisfies.

Another reason this took so long (I am just full of excuses), I am actually moving to London for an internship for three months. I still plan on writing during this time, so updates will be happening. I am leaving on Friday, so my plan is to update this one more time before I go. So, please review and let me know what you want to see!

Dean is 10, Sam is 6.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Daaaaaaaad," a pain filled voice groaned from the backseat.

John glanced over his shoulder in time to see Dean curled over a trashcan he had grabbed from the last motel room. By this point, there was nothing left in his small body to expel, so Dean spent five minutes dry heaving into the can. "You okay, Ace?" John asked when Dean slumped back against the seat.

"No," Dean whined out, closing his eyes as the street lights flew by. "Dad, I don't feel good."

They had been in Montevideo, Minnesota for two months while John had been hunting. During that time they had been enrolled in the local schools, much to Sam's pleasure and Dean's grudging acceptance. Unfortunately for them, they ended up in Montevideo at the height of flu season and they didn't make it out unscathed. When John had gotten back to the motel the night before they left, Sammy was in bed with a fever, and Dean was alternating between putting cold washcloths on his brother's forehead and puking into the trash can next to the bed. He had considered staying in there until they were better, but he had gotten word on a new hunt and it was time sensitive. So, he loaded them into the car and hit the road.

And he had been regretting it ever since.

Since leaving, neither of his sons had gotten much sleep, they had both thrown up multiple times, Sam was still fighting his fever off and Dean was starting to look a bit warm.

"I know," John said sympathetically. "How's Sammy doin'?"

Dean rolled his head sideways, "Sammy?"

Sam peered out from under the blanket that Dean had stuffed around him when they got into the car. He had tried to remove it a couple of times when he thought that Dean wasn't looking, but even when Dean was busy trying not to throw up, he had reached over and tucked it back in. Looking miserable, Sam blinked slowly, "Bleh."

Dean forced his head to roll back towards the back of his dad's head, and relayed, "Sammy's feelin' bleh."

John reached into the bag by his side and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade. He wished that he could claim that he had bought it in order to make sure that his boys stayed hydrated, but there had been three bottles of the stuff on the motel nightstand when he had gotten there; which meant that Dean had hauled himself down to the kwik-e-mart and gotten them for him and Sam. John hated to admit it, but he probably wouldn't have thought about how they were going to replenish their fluids. When Mary was alive, she had taken care of Dean when he was sick; he always wanted her to do it. Now, he was gone so often, that he never really had to deal with any sickness. Neither boy mentioned it, so he just figured that their immune systems were great and if they got sick, it would be mild. However, looking at it first hand, John could tell that this wasn't Dean's first rodeo. It made him wonder just how many times Dean had fought back his own misery in order to make sure his brother was taken care of.

"Can you get him to drink some of this?" John asked, passing the bottle back, waving it a bit when Dean didn't take it.

Dean shook his head when his dad looked back at him. "Sammy doesn't like the red, he likes the purple."

John looked down to the Gatorade bottle in his hand, when was he going to get this right? Grabbing the purple bottle out of the bag, John handed it back Dean, listening in as Dean tried to coax some liquids into his brother.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean tilted the drink towards his brother's lips. "Just a bit and then you can sleep again."

"Noooo, not thirsty," Sam whined, trying to turn his head away. "Tired."

"You need to drink, it will make you feel better," Dean argued, fighting his own fatigue. But, he had his orders; he needed to take care of Sammy before he succumbed. "Please, Sammy," Dean begged.

Sam cracked open his lips, allowing Dean to pour some into his mouth. He ignored the little bit that sloshed out and stared at Dean when he was done drinking. "Sleep?"

"Yeah, Sammy, get some sleep," Dean told him, discretely checking his forehead for fever as he pulled away.

John felt a moment of pride swell up as Dean retreated to his side of the backseat. He knew that his oldest was feeling crappy, it was written all over his face. But, he put that aside in order to make sure that Sam was taken care of. While he secretly wished it was him that could take care of them, he was glad that they had each other. As Sam slowly drifted to sleep, John noticed that while Dean had taking care of Sam down to an art, he did not seem all that concerned with himself.

"Ace, you need to drink some too," John told him softly.

"I'm fine," Dean argued softly. The thought of anything in his stomach made him want to throw up…and he remembered how well that went last time.

"That wasn't a request, Dean," John ordered a bit harder.

Dean meant his dad's eyes in the rear view mirror and knew that he wasn't going to get away without drinking some. The bottle was almost to his lips when he hesitated. "Dad…can I uh…"

"Dean, you have to drink."

"I know, I just…can I have the red stuff? The purple's gross," Dean said quickly, feeling bad about making his dad get him a different bottle, just because he didn't like grape.

John sighed, not in exasperation, but in self-deprecation…of course Dean would want the red crap. He obviously bought it for a reason, and if Sammy didn't like it, then there was only one logical reason. "Of course, Ace," John acquiesced, loosening the lid before he passed it back.

Dean took the bottle without comment and slowly lifted it to his lips; thinking the entire time that it wasn't going to end well. Taking small sips of the liquid, Dean fought back the urge to expel it immediately.

John listened in as Dean took shallow breaths through his nose. He may not be an expert on taking care of sick kids, but even he could remember the signs from when Dean was younger. "Deep breaths, kiddo," John instructed.

"Dad, I think I'm gonna…"

Cringing, John felt horrible as Dean's body turned against him and he threw up the little bit of liquid he had gotten in.

Minutes crept by until Dean finally stopped heaving…and a new problem arose.

"Dean, why wet?" Sam mumbled groggily.

"Uhh," Dean groaned out, lifting his hand from the sticky, wet mess that was now the backseat.

"What happened?" John questioned, thinking that maybe Dean had missed the trash can.

Dean seemed to get smaller, he was sure his dad was gonna be pissed. "I uh…the bottle spilt."

John joined in the groaning as he realized what had happened. When Dean started to throw up, the Gatorade he was holding had gone crashing onto the seat, meaning him and Sam were currently getting soaked by the red liquid. Seeing a gas station up ahead, John pulled off of the highway and pulled into the florescent lit parking lot. Hopping out of the Impala, John went for Sammy first.

Sammy still hadn't quite figured out what had happened, all he knew was that everything was a wet. That part was annoying, but he didn't worry about it, Dean would take care of it. Letting himself drift in and out of sleep, Sam was surprised when it was his dad's voice in his ear.

"Just a second, Ace, I'll be over there soon."

Sam shivered as the now wet blanket was pulled off of him and he was scooped out of the car. "Dean?" he questioned.

"Nope, Sammy, it's me," John corrected, holding a boneless Sam to him as he walked around to the trunk and got out their duffle. Shifting through the contents, John finally gave up when he found one of Dean's shirts, it would have to do. Stripping the soaked clothes off of his youngest, John tossed them into the trunk, he would deal with them later. After Sam was dressed in new underwear and Dean's shirt, John carried him around to the front of the car and settled him in the middle of the seat.

Heading back around, John opened up Dean's door, unsurprised to see Dean looking at him apologetically. The slightly glazed over eyes were new though, "I'm sorry, Dad…I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay, Ace," John reassured. "Let's get you out of there and we can worry about it later." John knew better than to think that he could repeat what he did with Sam, Dean was too old and too stubborn to let his dad dress him. "Can you walk?"

Dean didn't verbally respond, but focused all his efforts on swinging his legs around and crawling, more like falling, out of the Impala. When John had been getting clothes for Sam, he had thought ahead and pulled some out for Dean as well. Thankfully, John had found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for him mixed in the bag.

"Here you go," John said, handing him the pants, staying close enough to help if needed, but giving him some hint of privacy.

Dean didn't talk as he focused on getting out of the sticky clothes. Twice he had started to topple over, only to be stopped by his dad's steady hand on his shoulder. After a few minutes, he was finally redressed and was being directed to the front. Apparently his dad thought he was struggling too much because he had only made it to the back of the Impala before he found himself swept up in his dad's arms. "Dad, I can do it," he complained weakly.

"I know," John reassured, not wanting Dean to think that he was questioning his abilities. The kid was obviously used to taking care of them when they were sick, he didn't think it would be fair to treat him like he was incapable of it. But…he was there this time, it was his job to take care of them, even if he usually sucked at it. "We just need to get back on the road."

His explanation seemed to make sense as Dean relaxed and let his dad set him down in the front. Once Dean was settled, John took stock of the condition of the backseat. Grimacing, John took a paper towel and tried his best to mop up the mess. Getting the majority of the liquid off, John left it for the next day and moved all of the wet things into the trunk…which included the blanket that they kept in the car.

Sliding into the front seat, John immediately noticed how Sam had curled up next to Dean; Dean with his back against the door, and Sam curled up on his chest. Reaching over, John laid his hand on Sam's forehead, he was still a little warm, but he seemed to be doing okay. "Ace?" John questioned, concerned when Dean didn't respond. "Hey, kiddo…" John leaned over Sam and checked Dean's forehead.

"Dad?" Dean asked when he felt his father's large, cool hand run over his forehead and continue on to run through his hair.

"It's okay, Dean. Just get some sleep," John reassured him.

"Mmkay," Dean mumbled, tightening his hold on Sam.

Fifty miles later, John did another check on his boys. Nestled up against Dean, Sam was doing fine, but the cold window wasn't doing Dean any favors. Letting his foot off of the gas, John slowly pulled onto the rocky shoulder. Shrugging off his large leather jacket, John gently pulled Dean off of the door and slid the jacket around his shoulders. John then gave it a soft tug so that it enveloped him. Running another quick hand over both their brows, John sighed as he felt the fevers coursing through them.

"Damn," he whispered. He should have kept them in Montevideo just a little while longer, but there was no use crying over it now…he would just have to keep an eye on them.

Day broke and they were still on the road. John had done periodic checks to make sure that both boys were doing okay. Luckily, neither had woken up to be sick in a few hours, and Sam's fever had broken a while back. Dean was still fighting it off, but at least he was sleeping.

"Daddy?" Sam's soft voice asked out of the blue, breaking the silence that had reigned in the car for the majority of the night.

"Hey, kiddo, how ya feeling?" John asked quietly.

The warmth coming off of Dean was too tempting to Sam's sleep hazy body, so he remained pressed close to his chest. Sam didn't even verbally respond, but stuck his tongue out to express his thoughts.

Chuckling, John nodded knowingly, "I'll bet, good thing you don't have anything to do but sit and rest up."

Sam's face took on an even more disgusted expression. He may be sick, but even then sitting sounded boring. "When is Dean gonna be better?" If he had to sit, he should at least get some good company.

"Soon," John promised, hoping beyond all hope that it was true.

Sam continued to lean against his brother as the sun reached high in the sky. His limbs felt like jelly, but they hurt at the same time. And his head felt all fuzzy, like when Dean would wake him up in the middle of the night and force him to move into the Impala. Finally, when his stomach was finally beginning to crave food again, he felt Dean stirring beneath him.

"Dean?" He questioned, catching John's attention as he lifted his body up.

"Ugh," Dean groaned as he tried to regain control of his muscles. "Sammy?" he checked, as he forced his eyes to open. "How you feelin'?"

"I'm fine," Sam answered obediently.

Dean nodded to himself and continued to pull himself upright.

"Dean?" John questioned.

"Dad?" Dean sounded confused. And he was, the last few days had been a bit fuzzy. He remembered Sam coming to him when he was watching tv and saying that he didn't feel well, then a few hours later Sam had started to throw up. Then, he had run down to the store to get some Gatorade. He had the foresight to grab a couple of extra bottles just in case he got sick as well. It was the middle of the night when he started to feel kind of queasy himself, and then it became a miserable blur of events, him taking care of Sam, and trying not to curl into his own ball of bleh. As he thought about it, he could kind of remember his dad showing up and loading them into the Impala, but once he did not have to worry so much about Sam, he allowed his mind to go.

"Yeah, Ace," John confirmed. "We are about an hour out from our next stop. When we get there, I'll get you something to eat and get you two into a room."

Dean waited for the queasy feeling to accompany the thought of food, but he pleased when it didn't appear. "Okay," he replied in a small voice.

Not knowing what else to say, John went back to watching the road, smiling softly as he felt and heard Sam shift back towards Dean. He had made it through the night from hell and as he heard Dean speak up, he silently promised that the next time they were sick, he would do his best at keeping them in one place, and making sure that they would be taken care of properly.

"Why are you wearing my shirt?" Dean asked, his tone almost accusing.

Sam looked down at the shirt he was swimming in and tugged at the front of it. "I dunno," he replied innocently. "I thought you put it on me."

"Like I would let you wear my clothes," Dean argued, although deep down he knew that was probably a lie.

"You can't talk, you're wearin' dad's jacket," Sam reasoned. It made sense to him that if Dean got to wear their dad's clothes, then he should get to wear Dean's.

Dean looked down at the jacket in surprise. All he knew was that he was warm; he hadn't taken the time to figure out the source of the heat. But, now that Sam pointed it out, Dean was aware of the soft leather and the smell that he always attributed to his dad. Running his hand over the sleeve, Dean looked up at his dad who was staring steadfastly out the window. His dad loved this jacket, was hardly ever without it…and he let him wear it while he was sick?

"Well, I _guess _it's okay," Dean conceded, "but only this one time."

Sam's face lit up in a bright smile before he turned back to his dad to ask how long it would be until they stopped. Once Sam had turned, Dean had continued to be in awe of the fact that he was wrapped up in the jacket that he had always admired. When his dad wore it, he seemed invincible, it was like his armor. And he had given it up so that Dean would be protected. So, when he saw Sammy in his shirt, he saw the perfect opportunity to be more like his dad and give it up in order to look after Sammy.

…Even if it _was_ his favorite shirt.

…Even if it was his _favorite_ shirt that Sammy had just spilt some purple Gatorade on.

…Even if…

"Sammy!"

* * *

**Options for next time:**

**1) Sam learns to drive**

**2) Dean gets the Impala**

**3) Dean's first time**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. This week has been crazy. I am currently updating this right before my flight leaves (literally boarding in 20 minutes!). Sam learning to drive won and I hope you like this one! I wrote it a while back and while it is super short, I wanted to give a snapshot moment.

Enjoy!

* * *

Sam turned the starter over, nearly jumping as the Impala began to rumble.

"Relax, Sammy. She's not gonna bite," Dean teased lightly. He then smirked, "Not that you would know what to do if she did."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam squeaked out, all of his attention on the steering wheel beneath him.

"Haha!" Dean crooned, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Okay, put her into reverse and then ease your foot down."

The Impala shot backwards as Dean lunged across the seat and grabbed the wheel, spinning it around so that they missed the garbage cans lined up behind them.

"Sammy, take your foot off the pedal!" Dean shouted, his voice laced with panic as he envisioned the car crashing into something.

Sam immediately yanked his foot off of the accelerator and slammed it on the brakes, causing the Impala to jerk to a halt.

"Alright, that was…" Dean breathed out.

"I changed my mind," Sam threw out, his hands held up in surrender.

"No, no, no," Dean told him, grabbing Sam's hands and placing them back on the wheel. "You can do this, just go a bit easier on the pedal, bigfoot."

"Dean, can't we do this some other time?" Sam pleaded.

Dean shook his head, "Dad's on a hunt with Caleb for the next week; it's the only chance we have alone with the Impala. Unless you want him teaching you?"

Sam's face paled, "No, we can do it now."

Dean grinned victoriously, "That's what I thought. Now, we've got her backed up. Why don't you put her in drive and this time, don't slam your foot down."

* * *

"Wow, Sammy, you may be more of a natural at this than Dean was," John complemented as Sam drove the Impala around the small town they were currently staying in.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror where he could see Dean casually leaning his body forward, arms resting on the front seat. "What can I say? I have a good teacher."

* * *

I currently do not have time to throw out choices, but the two that were available last chapter are options or you can suggest one of your own!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hello everyone! I haven't forgotten about you all! I'm currently living in London! It is amazing, but it does limit the amount of time I have to update. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you are thinking!

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Dean stared at his dad in shock. Sam's expression was more akin to disbelief.

"You wanna what?" Dean threw out in a rush. "Cause if this is a joke, it isn't funny."

John's lips quirked up in amusement, _"Speak for yourself, Ace," _he thought. The range of expressions that Dean's face had morphed into over the last minute alone was worthy of a silent film award. He had started at thrilled, tapered down to excited when he felt like he was showing too much, ran headlong into shock, and now he was creeping into suspicion…

…Cause there was no way his dad just offered him what he thought he did. Looking over to Sam, Dean confirmed that he wasn't insane…his dad was.

"Ace, you're twenty-one now," John explained, realizing he would have to spell it out. "Sam's turned into sasquatch over the past year…"

Sam's face turned indignant at this, but he remained quiet; he didn't want to ruin this.

"We just don't fit in the Impala anymore," John finished.

"So, you're gonna just _give_ me the Impala?" Dean asked slowly, almost afraid that if he jumped to conclusions, his dad would pull out the rug from under him.

"Trial run," John clarified. "I bought truck, something with a bit more storage room. You and Sammy are going to stay in the Impala, and we will see how it goes."

"Really?" Dean asked for confirmation once again, his excitement beginning to creep back onto his face.

John nearly rolled his eyes, "Yes, really. Now, if you ask once more time, I'm going to take it back." He couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped when Dean's hand shot forward and snatched the Impala keys out of his hands.

Dean didn't even register John's laughter; he was too busy staring down at the set of keys in his hands. Not just any keys. The Impala keys. He got to drive the Impala…his dad just gave him the Impala. He couldn't believe it.

Sam and John watched as Dean became absorbed in the keys. Sam let out his own breath of laughter when Dean was so fascinated by them that he didn't hear his dad talking. John stopped after the first few words received no response.

"I think you broke him," Sam whispered in amusement. They shared a look that had them both smiling.

"Dude," Sam tried to get Dean's attention, having to resort to smacking him lightly upside the head.

Dean shook his head to free his thoughts and threw a glare at Sam. "Why'd you hit me?"

"I had to do something to snap you out of it or we would be standing here all day," Sam explained.

Dean reached over and returned countered Sam's slap with his own.

"Hey! Don't hit me jerk!"

"Don't be a little bitch, bitch," Dean taunted.

John's smile fell from his face slightly to be replaced with pride and affection for his two boys. He had just had the first lighthearted interaction with Sam that he had in the past year. Apparently, with the height Sam had gained, came an attitude. Dean's face was still glowing as he tightly clutched the keys at the same time as he play wrestled with Sam, both boys unwilling to go all out.

He wasn't lying when he said that they just didn't fit in the Impala anymore. He had noticed it when Dean was a teenager and had suddenly shot up in height. He figured that Sam would follow in his brother's footsteps; after all, he always did want to be like his brother. When Sam hit sixteen, it was like someone had started putting fertilizer in the kid's food. Inch by inch, Sam had outgrown the backseat, his knees shoved awkwardly against the front. And he definitely didn't have any qualms about complaining. It only took a hundred miles before the first groan could be heard.

There was another reason that he was giving the car to Dean…he deserved it. The kid loved the Impala, John could see it on his face anytime he was under the hood, tinkering with her to get her just right. He knew instantly when something wasn't quite right and would get to work fixing her up the moment they stopped. He treated her more like family than a vehicle and John couldn't think of anyone who would do a better job taking care of her.

She was also a reward. Like he had said, Dean was twenty-one. There was nothing that said Dean had to stick around anymore. He could easily pack up his duffle and head off on his own. His boy as a natural hunter; John had learned the skills needed to survive, Dean was born with them. He just got it in a way that most hunters would ill for. He would do perfectly fine on his own…but, he had stuck around, making sure that he and Sam didn't kill each other, being his back-up, giving up his chance at establishing his own life in order to look after his family. After all that, the least Dean deserved was a car of his own.

Shaking his head to break himself out of his thoughts, John noticed that the boys were still 'fighting'. "Boys, if you are done, we can hit the road."

Dean instantly froze, eager to drive the Impala that was now his. He then shot a glare at Sam who had taken advantage of his distraction to lightly punch him in the arm one more time.

"I'll make you ride in the back," Dean threatened quietly.

John continued on, wanting to hit the road. "We are heading to Nebraska. It should take about a day to get there. Follow procedure and meet me at the motel."

"Yes, sir," both boys said.

John turned around to walk over to his new truck. As he was walking, he tossed over his shoulder. "Since it's your first time driving so far on your own, it would be okay if you got there a day late."

Dean's face lit up into a grin as he slapped Sam's arm and booked it for the driver's seat. Sinking onto the seat, Dean slid his hands over the steering wheel and then inserted the key as Sammy hopped in front and immediately stretched his legs out as far as they could go.

As Dean almost reverently pulled out of the motel parking lot, Sam began to shift through the cassette tapes up front, hoping to find something decent. Those hopes were dashed as Dean's hand shot over and picked up an old AC/DC tape and popped it in. "House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."

* * *

**I am currently tapped out on ideas, if you have any suggestions, please let me know!**


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